Monday, July 22, 2013

When I first arrived in Idaho, I called Matt to let him know
I had made it to Idaho Falls. He cheerily replied that he would be there soon;
he’d just picked up the Suburban from the shop and was running a little late.
That, ladies and gentlemen, was the first time I learned of the infamous ‘burb.
As I sat on the curb outside the bus stop, a “well loved” 1994 Chevrolet
Suburban rolled up. Little did I know, this car would whisk me away to my new
home for the summer, and also become one of the intern crew’s closest acquaintances.

The ‘Burb,
or Bruce, as she is sometimes known, has been with us almost every day this
summer. We’ve had many thrilling adventures together, almost too many to count.
Many days, Brucey would give us a challenge: “Go ahead, open my back doors. Bet
ya can’t.” Ten minutes later, one of the two doors would be open. As Matt
explained to me on my first day, “it’s a push, then a pull. Kind of all one
motion.” At this point in the summer, I’m happy to say I’ve almost mastered the technique. But sometimes,
our adventures weren’t as fun for playful ol’ Bruce.

The 'Burb kindly allowing Anne Marie, Zach, and Matt take some telemetry and fish surgery gear she was hauling around.

In her old
age, the ‘Burb sometimes struggles overcoming the behemoth of a land mass we
call the Ashton Hill. Bruce would hiccup and cough her way to the top, then
coast down until the next rise. Somehow, even with a trailer or on triple
empty, we still always made it (regardless of the odd smells creeping in to us
from Bruce’s innards) with country music blaring. Luckily, the ‘burb recently
underwent extensive non-invasive surgery to fix her, shall we say, “asthma”
problem.

For a
while, Bruce insisted on not using her turning signals while braking. Because
of that stubborn habit, the crew learned all of the hand signals that you laugh
at when you first hear of them during driver’s ed. When the ‘Burb wasn’t
suffering from medical issues or dolling out life lessons, she silently did any
tasked asked of her, with no qualms whatsoever.

The ‘Burb
is the crew’s noble steed, our faithful friend who never lets us down, no
matter what the circumstances. Bruce has taken us thousands of feet up
mountains, down washboarded forest roads, and carted more gear around then ever
though possible. The crew would like to thank that wonderful vehicle that we
are so proud to call a friend.

The man, the myth, the legend: the 'Burb.

Keep on truckin’,

Jeff

P.S. A message to Bruce: if you could please return the
sunscreen, hemostats, nippers, and socks you “borrowed” from me, that would be
most appreciated.